Thursday, February 17, 2005


Sorry for the serious post. I try to lie, I try to eschew honesty etc, but I'm irritated.

Now then. The day.

On such a fine day, the sun out for the first time in weeks and I drive my battered car downtown where the homeless people live and the outlanders commute, downtown which empties every night except for the people who cannot leave.

The people in the courtroom were tattered like old books, the covers ripped and worn from being too often dropped and stuffed into bags, but never read. These people had the singular trait that no one was interested in them except the court, and only then passively so; the court players go about their game only as disinterested parties.

There are hundreds of people in the small court room, most of them black and hispanic. The handful of white people there are men and look tired and used, unwashed like old addicts dragging themselves from the shack to the court to be judged for something...dui, weapon possesion, who knows. Omaha is bright white, but most offenders are brown.

So, fines are handed out to the people who can afford it the least as they try to explain to the judge why they were drunk or speeding or why they had a gun in their car. He listens and fines.

As for me, I have a return trip after meeting with a Public Defender...who I'm sure will be as interested in the process as I am...then a trial.